


Nocturne in Red and Black

by orphan_account



Series: young adult friction [11]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, M/M, Multi, Painting, artistic nudes, combeferre would make a beautiful tree, enjolras puts up with a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-03
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-22 08:21:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/911001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Or: the time everyone ended up posing for Grantaire. At the same time. In varying states of undress. And Enjolras missed it all.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nocturne in Red and Black

**Author's Note:**

> So, what the hell happened to me?
> 
> Well, I've been busy with summer classes and I'm also getting back into the cosplay community so my nights recently have mainly been sewing whilst crying profusely. But here we go. The last part, except for the epilogue.

“Jehan, will you pose for me?” the question comes out of nowhere, as they all sit around the long table down at Café Musain one evening.

 There’s a pause, then Jehan replies, “of course, Grantaire. Is it for anything in particular?”

 “Not really,” Grantaire replies, swirling his nearly empty mug in his hand, “just felt like doing another piece.”

 Courfeyrac leans in dangerously close, eyes flashing, “is it a nude?”

 Jehan slaps him lightly around the face, “get out of here, Courf.”

 “So,” prompts Combeferre, drinking some of his coffee, “is it a nude, Grantaire?”

 “No,” says Grantaire firmly.

 Bahorel laughs, slaps Feuilly hard on the back (who nearly chokes on his beer) and demands, “well, if it was a nude, I say Courfeyrac should be tied up and shoved in a closet somewhere, and never allowed to see the finished piece.”

 “Hey, hey, what brought on all this we-hate-Courfeyrac stuff?” Courfeyrac demands indignantly. “Besides, what’s wrong with asking to watch my boyfriend pose nude? We’re _dating_.” There’s a particular stress on the word ‘dating’.

 Jehan blushes crimson, and Enjolras rolls his eyes dramatically.

 “Well, whatever it is, count me out of it,” he says. “I've got better things to do.”

Grantaire sticks out his tongue at Enjolras’ retreating back.

 

* * *

 

Later, Grantaire receives a text.

 **Feuilly:** hey r, you wouldn’t by any chance mind painting me as well at some point? idk, i just quite fancy having a portrait done. i’d pay you, of course.  
 **Grantaire:** dude, if u want me to paint u its totally fine. u could even join jehan if u wanted + if u were fine with it.  
 **Feuilly:** an artistic nude with our favourite Romantic. sounds great.

 **Grantaire:** btw feuilly will be joining us. im making u both into nymphs, that ok?  
 **Jehan:** That sounds exciting! I’m so up for this.

 

* * *

 

It’s late morning when Feuilly and Jehan appear at the studio that Grantaire’s borrowed from Musichetta and the artist has already set up his palette and canvas, and the scene. They will be dressed in loose shifts, Feuilly in burnt orange, Jehan in green, and sitting down next to a bolt of blue broadcloth (which will be later turned into a running stream). The wooded background board, which Musichetta so kindly borrowed from the art department at the university, hangs behind the stools which will become rocks and shrubbery in the finished piece.

The two of them change behind the curtain Grantaire has set up. As they settle down and wait for his instructions, they talk quietly between themselves in the still calm of the studio. There’s a moment as Grantaire carefully angles their limbs in the position he wants, before a sudden crash makes them all jump.

Three heads whip around towards the source of the noise, the open window, and Feuilly approaches it slowly.

“For God’s sake, Bahorel, would you get off, I swear to God-”

Feuilly reaches right through the large open window, and pulls out of the hedge a squirming Courfeyrac, who is loudly arguing with Bahorel. Both are covered in dirt and leaves.

“Courfeyrac,” says Jehan sweetly, in that voice which they all know to mean imminent death, “were you spying on us?”

“No,” says Courfeyrac quickly.

“Yes,” says Bahorel at the same time, an obscene grin on his face.

Feuilly reaches out and punches Bahorel squarely in the face.

 

* * *

 

“Now what are we going to do with you,” asks Grantaire, looking down at his paints. Courfeyrac and Bahorel shuffle around awkwardly, Bahorel with the beginnings of a spectacular bruise forming on his eye, attempting not to look at either Feuilly or Jehan, dressed in their nearly transparent costumes, neither of whom have bothered to cover up.

“Let us go and pretend this never happened?” asks Courfeyrac meekly.

Grantaire laughs, “fat chance. No… you two are going to help me. Strip.”

There’s a pause.

“What?” demands Bahorel.

“You heard me,” smiles Grantaire toothily. “Strip. You’re going to be satyrs, spying on the innocent nymphs at the stream. And I’ve just decided you two are going to be done nude as well, as punishment.”

To Grantaire, the look of surprise on everyone’s face tastes like sweet victory.

 

* * *

 

Of course, Courfeyrac and Bahorel are not exactly self-conscious individuals, and they all soon get readily into it, Courfeyrac’s face set in a perfect leer as he peeks around a chair to stare at Jehan’s ass (and he could quite literally do this all day, he decides), while Bahorel lounges, literally everything on display, mimicking drinking from a wine goblet as Feuilly pretend gapes at him, terrified. They’re all secretly having fun, and manage to stay fairly still as Grantaire quickly sketches, hand rapidly moving across the canvas.

Someone’s phone goes off from the pile of clothing in the corner and they all groan.

“Whose is it?” Grantaire calls.

“Should I go check?” asks Jehan.

Grantaire sighs, “I’ll do it. Guys, you relax for a minute.”

It’s Feuilly’s phone. And the text is from Joly.

 **Joly:** hows the thing going?  
 **Feuilly:** this is grantaire. please don’t disturb us while we’re working.  
 **Joly:** Oh no. Oops.

Grantaire’s in the middle of typing ‘what do you mean, “oops”’ when there’s a knock at the door and Joly and Bossuet bounce in, an entire collection of coffee cups in their hands.

“We brought coffee for the hardworking artist and his model!” announces Bossuet, before the words die on his lips at the sight of four of their friends, half of them naked, lounging around on chairs.

“Sorry,” says Joly breathlessly, “we didn’t realise you were so busy, but we brought coffee and… wait, I thought only Jehan was posing?”

“We’ve had additions,” says Grantaire dryly.

“Oh,” says Bossuet, looking entirely too pleased with himself, “this is like a bonding exercise! Any room for two more?”

 

* * *

 

Grantaire believes thoroughly that art is nothing but good improvisations, and after a bit of awkward shuffling  Joly and Bossuet are added in round the side as lovers in a passionate embrace, wrapped in a bedsheet, and there’s a thought rising to the front of Grantaire’s brain.

 

* * *

 

 

Around noon, Combeferre receives a text from Enjolras.

 **Enjolras:** Where on earth is everybody? I thought we were meeting for coffee today down at Musain, but no one’s showed up.  
 **Combeferre:** Jehan’s posing for grantaire today, isn’t he?  
 **Enjolras:** Well yes, but that’s only two people. Where is everybody else? No one’s replying to their phones.  
 **Combeferre:** let me go see if Grantaire or Jehan know.

Combeferre knocks briskly on the door of the studio once, and strides in.

“Sorry to disturb you when you’re working but I was wondering if-” he stops. He takes in the scene, and forgets the rest of his sentence.

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” comments Bahorel, “hey, why doesn’t ‘Ferre join us too? I’m sure we can slip in another satyr somewhere.”

“Why on earth would Combeferre be a satyr?” comes a voice from underneath Joly’s shoulder, and suddenly Bossuet appears. “’Ferre’s more of a nymph-like figure, wouldn’t you agree?”

Jehan nods his assent.

“…Enjolras is, uh, wondering where everyone is,” says Combeferre finally. “We were meeting together today, remember?”

Everyone starts. Then makes noises of ‘oops’, with a particularly loud ‘shit’ from Courfeyrac.

Grantaire doesn’t seem fazed by this at all. “Who do you want to be?” he asks suddenly.

Combeferre turns to look at him surprised.

“Pardon?”

“A nymph or a satyr? Or, I could always draw you in as a particularly life-like tree in the back.”

“But Musain?”

“There’s not going to be coffee,” interrupts Courfeyrac, “now get down here and take off your clothes, ‘Ferre.”

 

* * *

 

Finally, Enjolras gets fed up and goes home. It’s mid-afternoon when suddenly Joly and Combeferre arrive back at the apartment, looking entirely too pleased with themselves.

“Where on earth did you two go?” he asks angrily. Joly looks at Combeferre for a moment in silence, before breaking out into almost hysterical laughter.

Enjolras raises his eyebrows.

“Perhaps you should go and see Grantaire,” is Combeferre’s mysterious reply.

Seeing that he’s not going to get any decent reply out of them, Enjolras snatches the car keys from the table and drives all the way down to Feuilly’s house, where outside he spots Bossuet and Bahorel carrying in what appears to be several large pizza boxes.

“Why won’t anyone tell me what is going on?” he demands.

Bahorel looks at him for a moment. Then: “Grantaire!”

Grantaire’s head pokes out of a window. “Oh, bonjour Enjolras. Kind of you to come visit. I am, however, not particularly interested in pursuing an argument with you today. I have a lot of work to do!” he disappears back through the window.

He also tries Courfeyrac and Prouvaire but they have both gone to bed, reports a rather flustered Marius, who also doesn’t know anything (apparently). They’re all hiding something from him, and Enjolras wants to know what it is.

He goes back home unsatisfied.

 

* * *

 

About a week later, Enjolras makes his way down to Musain to grab himself a London fog. He opens the door, walks in, and stops.

Everyone is sitting around their usual table in the corner. Even Marius and Cosette and Éponine have made an appearance, and both Éponine and Cosette seem to be giggling over something on the table. He marches up to them, and stands there with his hands on his hips, though he can’t see what’s on the table through Feuilly’s back.

“Will someone please tell me why you were all acting strange that day Grantaire painted Jehan?”

Cosette stifles her giggle, “Good morning Enjolras. We’re all admiring Grantaire’s new piece.”

Enjolras reaches down past the sea of arms and plucks the canvas from the table, lifting it up to see. “What on earth is so great about Grantaire’s-”

He stops, dumbfounded.

On the canvas, done masterfully in vivid shades of green and blue and red, is a landscape. A wooded landscape, complete with a round Greco-Roman temple in the background. There’s a bubbling brook down one side, and the foreground is awash with flowers. And in the scene are four nymphs, two in transparent robes, crouching by a stream of water, two others, barely clothed, locked in a passionate embrace. Behind them are three naked satyrs, peering lewdly around bushes and watching the unaware, innocent nymphs.

Each face bears an uncanny resemblance to one of his friends. And Grantaire has definitely not been modest about their various states of undress.

Enjolras feels the blush creep up his cheeks, and he almost drops the canvas back onto the table. Jehan breaks out into a peal of laughter, and Grantaire, although there are some magnificent bags under his eyes, looks triumphant.

“We were thinking about hanging it up here in Musain, right over our usual table,” he comments, and Enjolras can just _see_ that smirk, barely suppressed on his lips, “I’m just about to ask the manager. We were just waiting for the advice of our most esteemed leader before we made our decision.”

Enjolras turns around and promptly walks out of the café.

 

* * *

 

 **Enjolras:** Don’t you dare hang that thing up at Musain.  
 **Grantaire:** ur just jealous bc u wanted to be in it.  
 **Grantaire:** dont worry, ur secret is safe with me ;)

Enjolras is going to punch him. Really.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading/Merci de lire.


End file.
